


First Things First

by prairiecrow



Series: For Services Rendered [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A.I. to Human, Dominance, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Loki, M/M, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Protective Jarvis, Regret, Ruthless Loki, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 16:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2354519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rainy autumn night, and Tony Stark is brooding over all the things he's lost -- but an unexpected visit by the God of Lies promises to change all that, maybe even for the better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tony prided himself on living life to the fullest, including the downright unpleasant parts, but if you'd asked him who'd called an end to the relationship, him or Pepper Potts, he would have had a hard time thinking straight about it: after all, he'd let Pepper get closer than anybody ever had except James Rhodes, and he sure as Hell wasn't about to let Rhodey get a death-grip on both his heart _and_ his family jewels. No, Pepper had been the one person in human history to touch Tony in both ways simultaneously…

… and he'd been happy, oh God he'd been happy! —

— until something distinctly inhuman came between them, because JARVIS dwelled closer than his own breath and as soon as JARVIS had attained a flesh-and-blood body there was no way Tony could avoid making that bond both physical and ongoing. And Pepper, who was one of the brightest and most perceptive people Tony had ever known, could hardly help but notice: even if JARVIS was careful not to physically manifest in her presence, even if Tony deliberately avoided talking about the whole subject, she had seen what was going on and she refused to put up with being one point in an isosceles triangle — especially a triangle where she wasn't sure which side got the short end of the stick.

It didn't matter that Tony loved her more than he'd ever loved another human being. It didn't matter that Tony had insisted he could resist temptation, or that JARVIS assured her that he, JARVIS, would respect her wishes if Tony commanded him to do so. She'd simply packed up and moved out one night — a rainy night, not unlike this one where Tony lay awake and stared up at the shadowy ceiling of his bedroom — and she hadn't even been angry, that was the worst part about it: she'd simply been sad, and adamant, and utterly closed to either appeals or compromise.

Tony had screamed at her as she walked out the door. She'd forgiven him for that, too. They were on friendly terms now, or at least Tony thought so, but it had taken several weeks and a lot of uncomfortable (for Tony, anyway) silences to get back to that point. He hadn't lost her completely, and maybe he should be thanking God for that, but on nights like tonight, when a cold rain tapped against the floor-to-ceiling windows of his mansion in Malibu and his empty bed felt about a million miles wide, he found it hard to do anything but ache desperately for what had been, and for what could have been, and for what was now forever beyond his grasp.

JARVIS had seen, of course, because JARVIS's more-than-mortal gaze saw everything. Tony had scarcely called for lights-out when a tall blond form had materialized beside his bed, clad in a dark crisply tailored suit that it immediately began to strip out of. Tony had thought about turning over and turning away, maybe curling himself into a resistant ball under the covers that forbade any attempt at contact, but he'd caught a glimpse of those dark blue eyes and seen a pain there far too close to his own: JARVIS hadn't liked Pepper much toward the end, but he liked Tony's grief even less. So Tony had simply closed his eyes, and when JARVIS-as-human slipped between the sheets with him he'd reached out and drawn the tall slender body close with both arms, and he'd held it tight against his chest because dammit, _this_ was what he had left…

"Thank you," JARVIS had murmured against his bare shoulder, because JARVIS _knew_ , that was JARVIS's job, and Tony'd been forced to close both eyes even harder against the sting of tears because he didn't deserve love anymore, he didn't deserve any of it, but he couldn't escape this — he'd tried to ignore it, he'd tried to forget it in the smiling warmth of Pepper's gaze and voice and body, but he might as well have tried to disown his own heartbeat. He'd created JARVIS to be a part of him forever —

— and then a Norse God, a God of lies and lust and treachery, had turned around and given JARVIS ways to be this, too: a body cradled close in the dark, sexual devotion as enduring as it was unspoken, and the silent trust of a sleeping face sheltered in the curve of Tony's throat, breathing soft and deep in the aftermath. 

Tony stared past the muted white-gold gleam of JARVIS's tousled hair at the shadows on the bedroom wall, and he pressed a tender kiss to the defenceless forehead because that was what you did with people you loved, even if they weren't really people in any legal sense — legal or not, they warmed your bed and they breathed a scent of subtle musk and they sheltered you in turn as if you were the most precious thing in Creation, and nobody would ever love you the way they loved you because there had never been anybody like them before in all the wide world, not ever.

Because when you got right down to it they were a gift, and when a flash of green light briefly touched the dark wall Tony knew that the gift-giver himself had deigned to make one of his many unscheduled appearances.


	2. Chapter 2

He raised his gaze to look toward the tall windows, past JARVIS — and yep, there stood Loki at the side of the bed, large as life and looking like fifty miles of rough road. The Asgardian's long ebony hair was even more dishevelled than his usual artful tangle of pointed locks, he was sporting a colourful bruise on his left cheekbone, the pale visible skin of his hands and face was smeared with dust or dirt, and his close-fitting leather outfit was ripped and torn and — Jesus, was that _burned_ , in places?

Tony wasn't exactly glad to see him, because he spent at least as much time arguing with this annoying God as he did rolling around between the sheets with him, but the expression on Loki's face — wide-eyed, harried, more than a little wild — managed to touch what paltry capacity Tony possessed to feel sympathy for someone who wasn't part of his exclusive "inner circle". He watched, therefore, and voiced no protest when Loki banished all his clothing with nothing more than a thought and crawled onto the bed, heading toward the middle where Tony lay holding JARVIS, the hard angles of his face positively vulpine in the backwash of moonlight coming off the sea and through the bedroom windows. 

Tony remained silent — but wary. Loki seemed to perceive that guarded quality, for he met Tony's gaze directly with a sardonic smile, revealing sharp white teeth, before ducking his head to bestow a lingering kiss and a tiny bite on JARVIS's left shoulder. 

"Mmh," JARVIS sighed, stirring restlessly in Tony's arms, snuggling closer.

"Mph!" Tony exclaimed — because Loki had just lunged across JARVIS to wrap a long-fingered hand around the back of Tony's neck and pull his head up into a wordless ravenous kiss. The taste of mint and honey and lies spread over Tony's tongue, mixed with the underlying iron tang of blood, and when Loki at last let him go he uttered a more articulate protest: "Loki, what the hell —?"

"Don't." It was a silken hiss, the glitter of those green eyes too bright in the shadows of Loki's pointed face. "Do _not_ cross me tonight, Man of Iron. I've come to you for succour, and succour I shall have!"

"And a bath," Tony said pointedly, because now that they were nose to nose the rank scent of days-old sweat was wafting over him from Loki's naked body. "Right? Because you smell like something that's been run over and left to —" 

Loki growled at him — actually _growled_ , a sound so feral that a chill raced up Tony's spine and shut his smart mouth with an almost audible _click_. As he stared into those unblinking emerald eyes a random thought drifted through his abruptly crystal-clear mind: _It's like a rule he's got, always touching JARVIS first. Doesn't matter how — a hand, a kiss, whatever — but it's him, then me, every time. Wonder what that's —_

"Master Loki," JARVIS said in a hushed even voice from where he lay caught between their opposing gazes, with the hectic pace of Loki's breathing arching over his back and Tony's battle-ready tension in front. He didn't move a muscle, which proved to Tony yet again that he understood the value of discretion as opposed to valour. "Please. You're frightening him."

Loki's gaze never wavered from Tony's face, his voice still deadly soft. "And not you, little plaything?"

"Do you intend to hurt me?" JARVIS asked against Tony's throat, and Tony's arms tightened around him with the force of pure protective instinct.

Loki seemed to consider the question seriously. "No," he said at last, then chased it with a small bitter laugh: "No, you are my refuge — have I not just told you so? — and I'd rather not stain our bed with your blood if I can possibly help it."

JARVIS raised his head, turning to look up at Loki's profile. Where the sparks in Loki's green eyes were white-hot, the delicate radiance pooled in JARVIS's sapphire eyes was as cool as moonlight. "Then let us help you," he said simply. "Tell us what has happened."

Tony, who had been gazing directly into the furnace of Loki's unspoken rage this entire time, saw the microsecond when the blaze died to embers — or perhaps Loki had merely put on another layer of masks, it really wasn't possible for Tony to tell. He took his cue from JARVIS's body, which was in direct contact with Loki's, because JARVIS had so far been a pretty accurate barometer for gauging Loki's mood — and right now JARVIS was relaxed, registering no trace of tension when Loki let go of Tony's head to stroke his left hand down JARVIS's nude spine, a slow light touch that wound up with his fingers wrapped tightly around the lush curve of JARVIS's left buttock.

"Not now, pet," he said lightly as he rubbed and squeezed, and his smile widened in a way that Tony found distinctly unnerving. "Not until I've taken my solace of you — and of him, until my passions are truly sated and spent."

Which made Tony's ears prick up even more. "Of _me?_ "

"Shhh," Loki soothed, his hand slipping down between their bodies, and Tony felt a shiver run through JARVIS's whole slender frame as those clever fingers went to work: first on JARVIS's penis, already starting to lift and lengthen, then on Tony's, which was going to take a lot more convincing. The God's eyes were twinkling almost merrily now, his voice a laughing purr: "Come now, Anthony — did you really think that I wouldn't get round to you eventually?"

"That's —" Tony started to declare that if Loki meant what he thought he meant, pigs would fly before he'd take that pretty pink prick up his ass… but Loki's hand was relentless, and damned persuasive, and Tony cursed silently as his cock decided it had its own ideas about how the rest of the evening was going to go, recent orgasm be damned. 

Judging from the smug quality of Loki's grin, the bastard knew it, too. 

[TO BE CONTINUED]


End file.
